


before the day is done

by littlemaple



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M, mage inquisitor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:34:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22853323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemaple/pseuds/littlemaple
Summary: Lavellan is worried about demons. Dorian offers him comfort.
Relationships: Male Lavellan/Dorian Pavus
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11





	before the day is done

**Author's Note:**

> just a little something that i came up with after reading asunder and replaying some bits of inquisition this afternoon.  
> title is from the song "seven devils", by florence and the machine ;)  
> enjoy!

“So there you are,” Dorian’s sweet voice came from behind him. Lavellan steadied himself with a deep breath before turning around to face the other mage.

“Dorian,” he offered a small smile, “you were looking for me?”

“You worried the visiting nobles by leaving so early in the evening,” Dorian explaining, eyeing him with curiosity. “So I thought wise to come check on you. Are you well?”

“Ah,” Lavellan said simply. He turned once more to the mountains reaching out in the horizon. It was snowing again. He was used to a warmer climate, but all those months in Skyhold had made him used to the cold. Tonight it seemed colder, however. He could feel the chill running deep within himself. “I’m... simply tired, a good night of sleep and I’ll be better,” he lied through his teeth.

Seeming to catch that, Dorian raised his eyebrows. Lavellan decided he was too tired to support the lie or find a way around it. So he simply sighed loudly.

“I _am_ tired,” he said, “but it’s not only that. I feel drained. Weak. I’ve always been weak, but all this… pressure… the world lays on my shoulders and I do not deem myself strong enough to carry it.”

“Lavellan—”

“And it’s not only that,” he sighed, “The mark,” he looked at his left hand. The scar on it ran deep across his hand, pulsing slightly ever so often. It had but a pale green tone at the moment, but Lavellan shivered at the memory of its full intensity. “The Anchor brings me to demons. I—I’ve never been a strong mage, Dorian. I struggle. The power is more than I can bear. I fail to understand it, control it, sometimes. You have seen me in battle. My spells fail me or come out too strongly. I avoid fighting and when I can’t, every second of it is torture. I fear I’ll hurt someone again without meaning to,” he took a deep breath, and although Dorian’s eyes were fixed on him, he didn’t say or ask anything. Lavellan continued, “And I’m afraid of demons. Of possession. Of what they can do… I have spoken with Vivienne. Mages far better than me have been turned Tranquil for far less. If I weren’t Dalish, if I’d ended up in a Circle… that surely would have been my fate. Solas has been helping me study, but I… I am so afraid. The nightmares are… they have always been terrible, I’m always running from demons, from their grasp, but ever since the Anchor, they… they’ve become so much worse. It’s so much harder. I try not to sleep much, just enough to keep going, I try, but sometimes I can’t even tell when it’s a dream or not, and I’m just… I can feel myself slipping away, I see demons lurking in dark corners when there’s nothing there and I’m so terrified one day there’s going to be one right in front of me and I won’t notice it until it’s too late.” He spoke all in one go, his words faster but quieter as he went, strangled tears at the corners of his eyes.

Dorian smiled sadly at him, then approached. He hesitated, then placed a warm hand on Lavellan’s cheek.

He had never done that before, and the elf asked himself why he took so long to. It felt just right. It made it easier to deal with the cold.

“You can ask for my help as well,” Dorian smiled, “I have quite the experience dealing with demons. Tevinter is not immune to them, you know. In fact, considering all the dark magic around, there’s plenty of them for us to worry about.”

“I know, I just…”

“Perhaps you are just tired, after all,” Dorian caressed his cheek so sweetly it made Lavellan sad, “as you said, you carry too much on your own. Some rest would be well deserved. Perhaps it’d help you, even.”

Lavellan shook his head.

“I don’t have time…”

“You really won’t if you turn into an abomination.”

The words loomed grimly in the chilly air. Lavellan felt all sorts of cold inside. Dorian placed a lock of hair behind his ear, and the elf closed his eyes.

“I saw you and Iron Bull sneaking around the other night,” he said, stepping away from Dorian’s touch. “So maybe you should—”

“I don’t know what you saw, dear Inquisitor,” Dorian moved closer again. Close enough for Lavellan to feel his heat, warm and inviting. “But I have only had eyes for you. Allow me to help you. I know just the thing for stress relief.”

Lavellan looked away, embarrassed and bubbly. When he looked back again Dorian was smiling, leaning in to kiss him.

Somehow the smile didn’t seem to reach his eyes. By the time Lavellan thought so, however, they were already kissing. A warm, peaceful feeling rushed over Lavellan and he allowed all of his worries to simply slip away.


End file.
